I've Got You Under My Skin
by Annamonk
Summary: The War is over. The remnants of the dark and the light are both tired. Society falls under the Ministry's control. Freedom is an illusion for everyone. This is not my leaf pile, I just keep jumping in it.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**_

 _Yep, It's a warning. This is not a fluffy bunny. There are references to things that might be triggers for some. I was listening to music while I worked on another chapter of one of my stories. I was considering Hermione's arm. Would it suit the story for her to be scarred? Then Diana Krall started singing, and this idea came on fast. I've tried to scrap it a time or two, but it keeps coming back._

 _Attack of the zombie plot bunny..._

 _Hope you enjoy it._

 _-Anna_

* * *

 **The secret to happiness is freedom... And the secret to freedom is courage. -Thucydides**

It had started in a fit of madness. She knew it. Just as she knew that there was no future in it. She'd meant to end it time and time again. The looked in the mirror and forced herself to study the woman staring back at her. Her features were still familiar, but the slight twist to her lips and the cynicism in her eyes were permanent now. She wiped off the blood smeared along her cheekbone with a flannel and tried to remember what she had looked like before. The war had been bad, but the aftermath was far worse.

She'd watched as the Wizengamot did little to the surviving death eaters. Some fines and some community service had been deemed enough punishment. The threat of Azkaban was enough to keep the sane ones from rebelling.

As victors, the Order had split. Most of the older generation had fallen back in with the Ministry. The younger generation had been happy enough to trust them, happy enough for real meals and warm beds in safe places. She'd been willingly paraded about behind Harry and next to Ron at every major event the Ministry could muster up. It was supposed to help improve morale.

She'd been helpful and plastered a smile across her face because the Ministry had promised to help her find her parents.

She'd clung to that promise as she drowned in hypocrisy. They'd fixed her body, concealed the scars, and tamed her hair. Her wardrobe had been drastically overhauled. They'd given her lists of dancing partners for every ball. She had smiled up at men that had tried to kill her. She had learned not to flinch at their touch. She'd stood next to them for photographs. She had done it all. Again and again.

All in hopes of having her family back.

She blinked the tears away. They didn't serve her. Self pity was for the weak.

"Miss Granger?" The stylist didn't bother to knock. "I'm here to help you prepare for the ball."

"Of course you are." Hermione sighed. She heard the witch's quick inhalation as she moved into the room. The blood on the sheets was bound to worry the poor dear, but she refused to conceal the evidence anymore.

"Are you well?" The stylist sounded frightened.

Hermione stalked into the room and waved her hands. The broken chair fixed itself. The sheets flashed back to pure white. The torn silk blouse floated to the bin and slipped in.

"Got a bit carried away yesterday." Hermione plastered on her best reassuring smile. "Your glamours will be put to the test."

The witch examined her with wide eyes. Hermione could see her cataloguing the visible injuries. She managed not to laugh as the woman gazed on her in growing horror.

"Surely, you should see a healer?" The witch licked her lips.

"No need." Hermione shrugged. "Don't worry about me."

* * *

Hermione stared at Kingsley as he raged around the room. He'd been at it for a while and was winding down towards the inevitable sad entreaty. None of it mattered. She leaned back against the wall as he sputtered on.

"You can't keep letting them find you in this condition." He stopped in front of her. "Word will get out eventually."

"Like your obliviators don't check everyone?" Hermione smirked.

"Why are you doing this?" Kingsley slumped down into a chair. "You must know its insane."

"You had to know I would discover the truth, but you lied to me for months." Hermione dropped the affable act. "You may pull my strings in public by threatening my friends, but don't expect me to play nice in private."

"I'll have him sent away." Kingsley smacked the arm of his chair. "That will put an end to it."

"You think I can't find another?" Hermione laughed. "Look at my dance card. I can take my pick. Rowle will probably like getting his hands dirty. He had a reputation for preferring fisticuffs to straight torture. Pucey uses pleasure like a knife I'm told. Oh, and knives, he likes those. Malfoy may be gentle and differential to his wife, but he created the sexual form of the Cruciatus. I do my research, Kings. Our side offers me some options as well. They won't stop the curse, but it would still be a bit of fun."

"Merlin." Kingsley fell back into the chair. "Why?"

"Because I believed you." Hermione stood up and smoothed her gown. "Because I let down my guard. Because I forgot that I'm just a mudblood no matter what I do. Because there's a respite for me in it."

"I'm sorry I let you believe your parents were still alive." He looked away from her. "It was wrong."

"That makes it all better, Kings." She pretended at extreme joy. "I just want to get along with everyone now."

She whirled toward the door and skipped towards it.

"He won't be returning to your room tonight." Kingsley stood behind her. "I told him it was over. Say your goodbyes quietly. I tried to do this nicely, but you won't let me. Any one of them, even the ones from our side, will be buying a one way trip to Azkaban if they hurt you. If you continue with this nonsense, you will become a permanent resident of the Janus Thickley ward. Are we clear?"

Hermione froze with her hand on the door. Rage blazed through her. She wanted to rip him to shreds.

"I don't care what happens to me." Hermione took a deep breath.

"Yes, I am aware." KIngsley came up behind her. She could feel the heat of his breath on the shell of her ear and smell his clove laced scent. "That's why Luna would have the bed next to yours."

He put his hand on her shoulder and let his fingers spread out along her bare flesh. She felt the threat in it and the rise of his own dark desires. He enjoyed the control and he didn't bother keeping his sadism to the confines of a private space. The war had broken them all.

"Fine." She nodded and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "But you keep your hands to yourself."

* * *

She danced the obligatory dances with Harry and Ron. She managed a turn around the floor with Kingsley. Neville brought her a drink and stood as they watched the others twirl. They didn't bother speaking. They'd all learned to keep quiet over the last year. The oddest things could be reported in the paper. She squeezed his hand and tapped the card dangling from her wrist. He nodded and bowed slightly.

It was all so elegant. She walked along the edge of the room. she didn't let her eyes linger on any one person.

"Hermione." Draco waved at her, and a genuine smile bloomed on his face. "It's quite the crush tonight. The Ministry must be pleased."

"They always are." She nodded and glanced down at her card. "I believe we get to take a turn on the floor in a few songs. You should talk to Harry. He has some idea about all of us going to Blackpool next month."

She smiled as he eagerly nodded. They passed a few more banalities before Draco headed over toward Harry. She watched them for a moment. She felt him come up behind her, but she didn't turn.

"Peace in our time." He spoke quietly, as he always did. "It warms the heart to see them even if it will never be."

"You could have let me pretend just a moment longer." She blinked at the odd moisture in her eyes.

"No fun in that, I'm afraid." He came up beside her. "I think I shall miss you."

"You will still see me from time to time." Hermione looked away from him. "I imagine we will even dance."

"I never expected to grow fond of you." He reached out and grabbed her wrist, letting his thumb glide up her arm slowly. "I hope you find some peace of your own, Hermione."

"Maybe some day." She looked over at him. "Don't do anything rash, Rodolphus. In a year or two, take a wife, renew your House. Don't give them reason to hurt you."

"What should I look for in this future bride?" He raised a dark brow.

"Sanity." Hermione grinned up at him. "You deserve some stability and some kindness."

"I would rather be wicked with you, but I will do what is best for us all." He bowed to her and lifted her wrist up, pressing his lips to the inside of it so gently. "Stability and kindness. I will remember."

"Peace in our time." Hermione lowered her head slightly as he released her. When she looked up he was gone.

She took a deep breath. This was not the place to indulge her emotions.

* * *

Hermione was halfway through bottle of fire whiskey when someone knocked at her door. She waved her hands and set the room to rights. No one needed to see how well she shattered mirrors and furniture.

"Come in." She looked toward the door.

"Draco said I should check on you tonight." Harry closed the door behind him. "What does he know that I don't?"

"He's sticking that nose of his into my business." Hermione sat down in the chair and was pleased it didn't wobble.

"He likes you." Harry sighed. "He hates Ginny."

"Of course, he hates Ginny." Hermione took a swig of her bottle and passed it to Harry. "She's the next Mrs. Potter, isn't she?"

"It's not like we have a choice." He lifted the bottle toward her before tilting it up into his mouth.

"You should run away with Draco." She looked at their reflection in the dark window. "Just go. You deserve to be happy."

"Then, they'll charge Ron with War Crimes. You'll wind up spending your days with Neville's parents much less find your parents." Harry sighed. "Kings knows where to apply the pressure."

"Rodolphus Lestrange. That's what you didn't know about." She shrugged. "Kings made us end it."

"Lestrange?" Harry raised a brow. "That's disturbing."

"In ways you don't want to imagine." She smiled. "Turns out you can grow fond of anyone if you fuck them enough. So, here I sit, inebriated, wishing I'd never made it through the war."

"Hermione." Harry looked shocked.

"I'm not allowed to take up with anyone else." Hermione blinked rapidly. "My proclivities have been noted and denied. My parents are dead. They never made it out of England. At some point, they're going to decide I'm not worth the effort and some poor sod will kill me. I'm betting on Percy."

"Percy?" Harry looked skeptical. "Really?"

"He knows what Kings is doing. Its not hard to see him doing what's necessary." Hermione shrugged. "I don't imagine he'll come at me with wands drawn. It'll be poison or something equally sneaky. he isn't fool enough to think he could take me in open battle."

"So, Lestrange?" Harry smirked at her. "It's just over?"

"I've been given my congé. It was Azkaban for him if he didn't end it." She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. "All of us have something or someone too precious to lose. I wasn't expecting him to fight for me."

"So, it wasn't love?" Harry nodded.

"It was pain and it was punishment. At first, thats all it was. We'd just make each other hurt. Then, after a bit, there were these moments when he would hold me." she waved her hand. "Doesn't matter. It's over. I can't have him, and I can't replace him."

"They'll assign you a partner soon enough." Harry slumped down.

"It won't help me." she sighed. "This trap of holding us hostage will never end."

"We could fight." Harry straightened a bit.

"No, we can't." Hermione patted his hand. "We all swore on our magic to support the Ministry under Kings. He knew what he was doing. We were so tired and so trusting."

"So, he will control us forever?" Harry sighed.

"The Weasleys are happy." Hermione sighed. "You could gather the others. Take Draco. Run."

"And what would you be doing?" Harry examined her with narrowed eyes.

"I've learned a thing or two." She smiled. "I can bring down the tracking system and you can all go."

"Hermione." Harry grabbed her hand. The desperation in his grasp was obvious.

"I will destroy his ability to hurt you and our friends. It's a good legacy. There isn't anything for me out there, Harry." She looked away from him. "The things I need are here."

"We can find some dark wizard." Harry's grip tightened. "They're everywhere."

"Bellatrix carved her curse specifically. I need a death eater." She took a deep breath. "Kings has already put me on the path for destruction. I would rather spend my life doing something good than fritter away the endless hours of my descent in to madness."


	2. Chapter 2

Rodolphus Lestrange stood in the center of the lady's bedchamber. His mother had been the last woman to occupy it. The whole room was given over to frills, cherubs, and pastels. Still, it was better than what his nightmare of a wife would have done with it. He grimaced at the thought.

Bellatrix had never actually lived with him. The consummation of his wedding vows had taken place at Avery's Manor. The Dark Lord had dug deep into his flesh and his mind and forced him to her service. The next morning had seen him bleeding, broken, and marked. He wished time would dull those memories, but wishes were for young witchlings and unicorns. Seasoned warriors were left with nightmares and shattered dreams.

He ripped the tie from around his neck. He hated wearing formal robes. He hated playing nice with society. He didn't want to tear it apart and put himself in power. He didn't want any part of it.

"Sanity." He clenched his fists at his sides. "Stability."

He felt his magic flaring.

He could see her in his mind's eye. Regal and refined, the softest of chiffon robes sliding along her skin as she followed along precisely three strides behind Potter. He could see her laughing and taking a swig from a bottle as she straddled the balcony railing of some manor. He could see her asleep in a tousled bed. Somehow, she'd become important. She'd become vital, and Shacklebolt stepped in to break them both again.

Rodolphus felt his body begin to shake with the effort to control his surging magic. Years of training meant nothing against this. He'd been broken before. Time and again, he'd faced his own failures. He had tried to stand, to fight. He'd been trained by his grandfather in the battle arts, to use both mind, body, and magic in concert. He'd been forged and honed, but none of it mattered.

He felt his magic break free, saw the bed ripped apart cherub by bloody cherub. The whirlwind of destruction around him was nothing. He felt like he had that first time.

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps, compulsion. He didn't much care. The war had been reduced to hard eyed staring and fake smiles. Survival meant compromise. The ideals he had supported had never been his own, but that didn't matter. His arm was still marked. He'd felt her eyes on him again and again. It had become something of a game. He'd needed the distraction. When she had wandered into the hedge maze, he'd followed. Watching her watch him had made being there bearable.

The maze was tall and designed to provide privacy. He'd hidden there a time or two, desperate to feel safe in a world gone mad. He'd rounded the corner to find himself facing her wand. His own fell easily into his hand, and they stared at each other. The insanity of it, of breaking the forced decorum, of letting go, had caught them both. The garden party at Malfoy's had provided them both with a plethora of reasons. The siren call of battle lured them both, and they tumbled into it. Hex fire heated the air around them, charging the area with the crackle of power. He wiped at the blood oozing from a slicing hex she'd landed. His wand was in her off hand. The sweat rolled down her skin and dampened her floral dress. He could still see the riot of colors swirling around her tanned legs as she advanced towards him with her wand extended.

He could still remember the kiss that came next. Her lips pressed against his, her teeth, her tongue. He would always remember it.

Awareness broke through the haze of memory. He was alone, fallen to his knees in the wreckage of a room. He threw back his head and let the pain take him.

"Kindness," he whispered before toppling to his side and sobbing. He didn't care for any of those things. He wanted Hermione.

* * *

Kingsley slumped in his chair. His life was a living hell. He'd thought muggles were daft for believing in such a place until recently, but he'd learned.

Harry had won the day. He'd managed to do what grown wizards could not, and they'd all been fiercely proud of him. Hermione had stood beside him or behind him every step of the way. She was as loyal as any Hufflepuff could ask. Ron had been swept up with them. His brief faltering missteps had been swept away as the press dubbed them The Golden Trio.

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegrood were also raised up by the press. They were the powerful and the true. If they were uncomfortable in the glare of celebrity, it did not matter.

The adults had been happy to let the adulation fall on their shoulders. The business of rebuilding society was theirs. They'd been happy to let the heroes pretend to be the children they should have been.

They'd passed through the halls of the Department of Mysteries to take their oaths. Andromeda Tonks, Arthur Weasley, Amos Diggory, and Sagacity Pringle had joined him in a loose circle around the foundation stone to pledge themselves to the service of the Ministry. They'd been so bloody arrogant.

It had never occurred to them to have the stone checked. It had never passed through their minds that such a thing could be corrupted. They'd gathered round it with honest hope.

Fools.

This was what was left to him.

He could in quiet moments still remember being the man he had been before.

It only made the whole thing worse.

Lucidity brought forth demons to torment him.

The memory of the smoothness of Hermione's skin under his fingers tore at him. He'd considered hurting her. He'd considered taking what should only be freely given.

He bolted from his chair and emptied his stomach into a rapidly conjured bucket.

* * *

Luna sighed. Draco and Harry were working over their plan again. Hermione had set the date. They had their charmed galleons. They didn't need them all though. She pulled hers from her pocket and watched it shine in the weak sunlight.

She loved it.

It was tangible proof that she was not alone in the world.

There had been times when her sanity had hinged on the warmth of this coin in her hand.

She licked her lips and looked over to the two wizards forging ahead with plans to save them all. All save one.

Hadn't the greater good been satisfied with the lives it had already taken.

She clenched her fist around the coin.

Hermione had been the one that united them.

Harry had been the leader, but Hermione had been the one with vision.

She'd seen the path to victory and deemed it worth the price.

Luna closed her eyes and studied the wild storm of images in her mind. She could trace the images and link them if she tried hard enough. Each path diverged and twisted its own course. The closer an event or the more likely, the more often she saw it.

There were always costs. Seeing those was not her specialty, but she could see enough to know that Hermione's sacrifice would save them. Britain would be lost, but their expatriate community would thrive.

Luna felt the tears trickling from between her closed eyelids. She dragged in a deep breath and held it until her lungs began to burn with in her. She pushed out the breath and forced herself to study the fainter images. There had to be a different way forward.

She caught sight of herself with Hermione watching their children soaring above them on flying horses. The vision was indistinct and distant, but that was the future she wanted. Pushing her magic toward it she saw it glow golden and another image flared to life in her mind.

She opened her eyes and looked again at Harry and Draco. They didn't need her right now. She stood up and summoned her cloak.

"I'm going out." she waved to them as they glanced in her direction. "I won't be long."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stared at the galleon in his hand. It was a treasure beyond price if the Lovegood girl was right. He closed his fingers around it. He stared at his reflection in the window. The gardens and land that lay just beyond the glass seemed to be a part of him, and, in a very true sense they were. He had been born here. He was meant to be here. These were things he knew to be true. Still, there were less palatable truths that had to be faced at some point.

He'd stared a few in the face over the years. It wasn't at all a comfortable thing to do.

"Lucius, are you still in here?" Narcissa stood in the doorway. "Dinner is being served."

"Am I a good man?" He turned his back on his reflection and stared at his wife.

"Of course." She took a step towards him. "What has you so upset?"

"I suppose the hand of fate is upon me." Lucius shrugged.

"That sounds ominous." Narcissa grabbed his arm.

"The fate of our world is suddenly in my hands." He swallowed down the bile in his throat. "The Lovegood girl just put it there. She said she had faith in me."

"I know this world isn't what we imagined, but it is a decided improvement over Riddle's version." Narciisa sighed. "Luna Lovegood wants you to do something to change it? That makes no sense."

"No. She gave me a way to save a small contingent of our friends. She asked only that I find a way to save another." Lucius gripped the coin tighter. "Draco will be safe already."

"Safe?" Narcissa's hand shook slightly against his forearm.

"Away from England." Lucius smiled. "The trace will fail completely in a few days. Potter is taking our son and his merry band of misfits away."

"You can't turn them in." Narcissa stepped back from him. "I'll see you dead first."

"I never considered turning them in." Lucius shook his head. "The Lovegood girl wants me to rescue the witch that will make all of our escapes possible."

"If that's what we must do." Narcissa shrugged.

"It isn't." Lucius cut her off. "It was merely a favor asked."

"She gave you a way to save us. There is an implied debt." Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. 'There is no choice."

"Our lives are not at stake." Lucius paced the length of his study. "There is nothing required of us, but..."

"You want to look in the mirror and know you are a good man." Narcissa sighed. "So, we save the witch."


	3. Chapter 3

Andromeda Tonks stared out the window into the night. The darkness offered her some comfort. She remembered the Star celebrations of her youth when they would dance in the garden behind Black Manor and stuff themselves with sweets. She remembered the lush chocolate dipped cherries and the sweet toffees her mother preferred. She remembered her family before the world broke them apart and scattered them like ashes across the world. She remembered burning brightly, a star in the vast darkness.

She bent her head and remembered her family. Even Bellatrix would be welcome in this moment if her insane sister could give her the strength needed to accomplish this. She fought the urge to pull the heated rune stone necklace from around her throat. She'd designed it and carved the stones with her husband's wand as it was all she had left of him. She'd blessed it with her daughter's tears collected after she'd given birth. The first years of a new mother were powerful things. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. The pain kept her present. She needed this last night of sanity. She needed to remember for what and whom she was fighting.

She pulled one of Teddy's old shirts closer to her face and dried her own tears on it. She wouldn't see him again. She'd seen the goodbye in Potter's eyes. She knew he was fleeing this twisted world where they resided.

She'd known Harry would go. He was brave enough and determined enough to make a good life far from this crumbling world. Her family would be safe with him.

It was why she'd made the necklace. She'd known the time would come for her last stand. The magic of the Foundation Stone was strong, even corrupted as it was. The moments when her true self was in control were few, but the necklace bought her time. She looked up at the stars that seemed so faint.

"Please, help me." She felt the hot chase of tears down her face. For a moment, she saw Aunt Walburga, perfectly coiffed with ferocity and determination to spare. Then, Uncle Orion joined her. Strength and power flowed out of him like he was a wellspring. Others joined them. Each leaving her with a new sensation. She saw her father, his wild main of curls always moving, caught in his struggle between joy and sadness. She saw her Aunt Dorea singing and laughing as she danced.

"Toujours Pur." The words she had shied away from for so long tumbles from her lips as their meaning came clear. "It was never about the blood. It was about the magic."

Each family had its own secrets, but her family had so many. She saw her daughter stumble in and giggle with some forgotten great great. Blacks died as all living things must, but their magic like starlight continued on waiting to provide light on the darkest of nights. It was always about the magic. She pressed her fist against her chest and felt her heart race.

This was her defining moment, her battle to win.

Shed prepared. Always knowing that Harry would find a way, she had been filling notebooks with all that she learned and knew. They were stowed in the bottom of Teddy's overnight bag. It wasn't enough, but if Hermione was with them, they stood a chance. That witch would find a way to keep them safe.

The power of her family sang through her.

Riddle had always wanted a Black witch. She'd thought it was because Aunt Cassiopeia had thrown him over at school, but she knew better now. He'd wanted a Black witch because they could work with the star born stones. He'd planned to corrupt the stone from the very beginning.

Andromeda pulled her daughter's bright red cloak tighter around her shoulders. She didn't care if she sweat through the damned thing. These times of lucidity were burning away. The necklace was limited because she had no star born stones of her own, they were closed away in vaults, sealed away beyond her reach. She wasn't brave enough to call forth the stardust in her body, to burn her own flesh away and hope it would be enough. She shivered as the stones heated on her skin again, pushing back the taint for a little bit longer.

She took a swig from the chalice in her hand. The healing potions were losing the battle, but she would hold out as long as she could. This was her battle.

They needed time to get away. It was the last gift she had to give. Her sanity was a small price to pay for their freedom.

* * *

Hermione stumbled out of the room and slumped against the wall. It was over. Her battle was done. A deep breath burned her lungs. She managed a couple of steps and fell to her knees. The sharp bite of cool stone startled her. Blood splattered in front of her, shining darkly in the low light. She breathed out the barest of chuckles.

It was infinitely easier to destroy things with no sentience, but that wasn't her lot in life. At least nothing had tried to drown her this time. The trace office had actually been designed to defend itself. The wards had been fierce enough, but the other defenses had been worse. So much worse. She wiped the blood from her fingers on her jeans, not that it did much of anything. Each breath was a struggle, but it didn't matter. She yanked the coin from her pocket.

The familiar hum of the protean charm on her fingers was a celebration of its own. She sent the message. The knowledge that Harry would save their friends buoyed her through the inevitable sadness.

She tried to get on her feet, but her muscles failed her. She was so tired of war. There wasn't any glory in it. Gryffindors valued their bravery, but it really should come with a warning. It seemed to lead to bleeding far more than it should.

She coughed out a chuckle and pulled a chunk of something grotesque from her hair. It wriggled in her hand like warm gelatin. She shook it off her hand And heard a splatting sound as it hit the floor. Those brains that attacked Ron in fifth year had cousins. Well, they had had.

She grimaced.

Pain lanced through her. She knew her injuries were deep, but potions were closely controlled. She'd had no hope of getting the kind of things she needed and brewing them was out of the question. Meeting death on her feet wasn't going to be a possibility. She let her body relax. There was no point fighting for something beyond her reach. The wall and floor were cool, but she didn't have enough power left to cast a warming charm much less the patronus she wanted to send.

She bit into her lower lip and let her mind slide where it wanted. Her last minutes would be with him, even if it was only a fantasy. Rodolphus rose up like a dream in her mind. She remembered him standing at her window with the sun pouring in around him; casting him in silhouette. He'd looked more like some warrior god than a wizard. Letting the emotions she had denied at the time free, she changed the memory to suit her. She imagined him turning with a flash of a grin and joining her in the sheets once more. His warm breath teased her ear as his nibbled on the lobe. They were gentle with each other. Soft touches and the warm flashes of his breath were a delectation. She let the real world drift away and poured herself into the fantasy.

Her battle was won.

* * *

Narcissa followed behind the men. Lucius had picked them carefully, but she didn't fully trust them. Rowle lived for turmoil, and Roddy was as near to crazy as a wizard could be without stepping over the line. She circled her wrist about under the cover of her robe, keeping her wand at the ready.

"Saving this witch is a waste of time." Rowle grumbled. "If she's willing to spend her life freeing us all, then we should let her."

"We used to have honor." Lucius glanced over at the blonde wizard. "We used to guard it. It was a measure of our true worth as wizards. I want mine back. If you value yourself so cheaply, run. Run and keep running because there will be no safe harbor for you with me."

"Honor doesn't keep you warm at night." Rowle shrugged. "It's not that I don't value it, but I'm worried about us. This witch belongs to the light."

"If you don't shut up, we will fail." Roddy growled. "This witch will die and none of us will have any honor left."

"You just want to keep your plaything." Rowle smirked. "Did you enjoy your roll in the mud? Got a taste for it now?"

"Don't kill him, Rodolphus." Lucius looked back at the squabbling pair. "He does this before every fight. If Avery weren't bed ridden, he'd be here, and we could leave them to it."

Narcissa watched these men carefully. They moved with grace and determination. For all their verbal sparring, their actions spoke louder. There was no hesitation. This was an act of redemption.

The corridors seemed endless. She didn't have any idea how her husband knew where to go. Trust was all that was left. She hated the silence and the deep well of agony that enveloped them. Lucius stopped, but Rodolphus sprang past him.

"Healing potions." Rodolphus gathered the broken and bloody body of the witch they'd come to save in his arms. "She needs everything."

Narcissa grabbed the few precious bottles from her pocket and moved forward. Severus had brewed these. His will seemed to infuse his brewing with extra power. Even now, long after his death, the power of the wizard lingered. They offered this witch the best chance of survival.

Lucius knelt beside her and started healing the open wounds. She poured potions into the witch's mouth and messaged her throat to get her to swallow. The metallic scent of fresh blood infused the air, but Narcissa ignored it.

She'd lived helpless and fearful long enough.

When Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered and her breathing became less labored, they stopped their frantic movements. Her lungs were burning as she dragged air into them. She leaned against Lucius and felt his magic wrap around her, offering comfort.

"Can we go now?" Rowle snarled down at them. "Guarding your backs takes a toll. She'd better be worth the fuss."

Narcissa looked up and caught the witch's glowing citrine gaze. Redeeming her husband's honor and paying for her son's freedom had been reason enough to see her set on this course, but seeing the determination in that wild magic infused gaze gave her hope. There might be a way through this nightmare after all.

* * *

The warmth of the night air had her hair sticking to the back of her neck, but it didn't bother her in the least. The joyful abandon of most of her friends echoed through the moonlit cove. Luna watched as Draco sighed. He knew too well the cost of this night. Family and friends abandoned. His heart was understandably heavy even as the others cheered. He approached her slowly and sat on the sandy beach beside her.

"It hasn't hit Harry yet." He picked up a handful of the white sand and let it slide slowly through his fingers. "Hermione was an amazing witch."

"She is." Luna sighed and looked out over the sea. "I broke Harry's rules. Your parents saved her and as many of their group as they could. We will see them again."

Luna smiled at his shocked expression and turned to watch the white capped waves ride the dark waters into shore. It seemed apropos.


End file.
